What we lost and found
by EverydayClumsy
Summary: Sherlock has a flatmate and Mycroft makes a visit to meet this person. He finds something lost.
1. Nice to see you again

Sherlock sat in his arm chair snuggled in a blanket tipping away on his laptop. John was upstairs in his room, trying to catch up on sleep he much needed after Sherlock's 'I'm-just-going-to-have-a-quick-look' turned out to be a whole-night-chase after a thief who was quickly to move and kill. John lived only a week with his insane/brilliant flatmate but he had already killed a man to save this madman's life and he had a feeling that wasn't the last time, he was like a magnet for trouble.  
He felt affectionate to him, the name Holmes always having a special place in his heart. He did not ask if he was related to his Holmes, there was enough evidence, but for now he just enjoyed the thrill and adrenaline that came with living together with the self proclaimed sociopath. He didn't want to think about things that lay in the past. Sherlock was still tipping on his laptop as he heard movement on the stairs, careful placed steps, a familiar breathing pattern and every other step accompanied by an umbrella carefully used as a cane.  
"Go away, you are not welcome!" Sherlock shouted before the door even opened  
"Now brother dear, you shouldn't be so impolite to your guests." A smooth voice almost purred gliding inside.

"You are not a guest Mycroft, you are a nuisance; I could call the police and ask them to arrest you for unlawful entry, brother dear." Sherlock said venom in his voice as he spat out the last words, a smile like a grimace on his face.

"You can try." Mycroft said with a false smile on his own lips as he sat opposite of Sherlock fanon the other armchair.

Sherlock huffed "What do you want?" He practically shouted now.

"Calm down little brother." Mycroft answered calmly "I'm here to see your so called flatmate." He added his voice like silk.

"I don't see why?" Sherlock huffed back.

John woke up from Sherlock's loud voice and decided that that was enough sleep for today and that it was more important to check that Sherlock didn't do anything stupid. He quickly put on jeans and a jumper before descending the stairs.

Mycroft wanted just answer Sherlock when his jaw dropped open; he saw the figure on the stairs, short sturdy man, more grey than blond hair and night blue eyes; his usual fake expression was replaced with and honest expression of shock, confusion and happiness.

When John saw the figure sitting opposite of Sherlock he halted for a second before going further; dark hair, ginger shimmering through, pale skin, soft blue grey eyes.

"So you are related." He said his eyes smiling. "You have to excuse me, I thought that might be the case, but I wasn't 100% sure, you don't exactlylook alike, well now at least." A smile spread across his lips.

"He took after Mommy." Mycroft answered shortly, his face still full of emotions.

John nodded "Never had the honour to meet her." his face losing a little of the smile.

Mycroft nodded almost invisible.

"Oh," John laughed and brushed a hand over his face "I'm so stupid sometimes, that's Sherry, oh my God..." John said as he moved and sat down on the sofa a fond expression painted on his face "He was much shorter back then and ... fluffier, somehow." he laughed again.

"Growth spurt when he was 17." Mycroft said watching the shorter man sit down, his eyes never leaving him.

Sherlock followed the whole conversation in shock "Why...?" he started but couldn't finish, he started again "Is he...?" he couldn't finish his sentence again and just looked at both man with a shocked and freighted expression.

"He does not work for me Sherlock, if you wanted to ask that." Mycroft answered Sherlock's stammer never letting his eyes drift away from John.

"Never." John laughed "And for the rest, deduce it Sherlock, aren't you the genius here?" John added with a happy smile.

"Tea anyone?" he asked as he stood up again.

Sherlock not able to comprehend what just happened just looked between the two men. Mycroft slightly nodded at John who then went into the kitchen leaving the two brothers alone.

Sherlock stared at him "What's going on?" he breathed out after a while.

Mycroft forced his gaze away from where John went and looked at his brother. "Nothing, Sherlock." He said a genuine smile plastered on his face.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes "Like John said, you are the genius here, deduce it." Mycroft said as he stood up and went into the kitchen.

Sherlock confused by the whole situation followed the two men into the kitchen where he found John standing in front of the stove and Mycroft besides him leaned against the work top with his back, his head turned to watch John with a smile on his face, who returned the same sincere smile.

"You two are close, even if you haven't seen each other for a long time. He knows me, he also knows father. And you..., you like him and John likes you. Why?" Sherlock half stammers his eyes wide and disbelieving.

"Good thing he's off the drugs, you took good care of him." John said ignoring Sherlock and turned towards Mycroft placing a hand on his arms and brushing slightly over it.

"It's not only my doing." Mycroft answered placing his hand over Johns on his arm and squeezing it lightly. "I didn't know you got hurt." Mycroft said with a steady voice even if his fingers slightly trembled against Johns as he took his hand away.

"I know-"

"Halt stop! What is going on here?" Sherlock couldn't hold it in any more, he looked pleading at both man.

John chuckled and Mycroft grinned "Can't you work it out, little brother?" Mycroft teased, Sherlock's expression changed from shocked to angry. John slightly squeezed Mycroft's arm and shook his head a little.

"The tea is ready." John said giving each man a cup, while Sherlock stared at them both not knowing what to do.

"Shall we go back to the living room?" Mycroft asked already making his way there followed by an angry but still shocked Sherlock who didn't understand why his flatmate, whom he came to like – even if he would never admit it –, knew his older brother and apparently him and his father and why it seemed that both of them were close, he didn't like that.

This time Mycroft sat down on the sofa and John sat next to him, what earned them an ugly look from Sherlock who sat down on his armchair looking distressed.

"Explain." Sherlock demanded. Mycroft only raised an eyebrow at him and took a sip form his tea.

"Oh, no sugar." He said while smiling happily.

"Figured you wouldn't take any after-" His eyes wandered over to Sherlock.

Mycroft chuckled "Mhm" he hummed in agreement.

"What? After you diet failed?" Sherlock snapped grinning like a hyena, mad and frustrated at his lack of knowledge regarding the whole situation.

"Oh, he still does that?" John looked surprised at Mycroft who just shrugged "I thought he would have grown out of it." He said while placing a protective hand on Mycroft's thigh.

"Sherlock you do know that My was only once slightly cubby, no need to rub it in his whole life, does no good." John said looking at his baffled flatmate.

"That's it, I'm calling Diana." Sherlock said while pulling out his phone.

Mycroft huffed a laugh.

"Diana?" John asked little confused.

"Come here immediately." Only seconds later Diana – former Anthea – stormed through the door.

Sherlock grinned knowing that he would now get answers.

But to his surprise John jumped up grinning like the Cheshire Cat "Lillian, my God, you still work with him!" He exclaimed "I would have thought he had driven you insane by now" he added laughing.

Her phone dropped on the ground and her jaw dropped. "You...but you...how?" She stammered and John grinned and took a few steps forward. Mycroft eyed the whole situation with a pleased smile on his lips.

Lillian threw her hands around John's neck and pulled him into a tight hug "John..." her voice soft and trembling "I'm so glad." She said hugging him even tighter.

Mycroft saw Sherlock's expression "Not exactly what you expected little brother, eh?" he teased his flabbergasted brother.

"He knows her name." Sherlock breathes out heavily, trying to put all the facts together he knew.

He knew that John was an army doctor wounded in battle and sent back to England, he wasn't remarkable in any way except that he was a crack shot. And now he knew that John knew his brother and his assistant, he knew his father and it seemed him too. He was close to both Mycroft and Lillian and he knew her real name. He glanced in disbelief at the scene in front of him, not making any sense of it. It was as if he was missing a big piece of the whole puzzle.

Lillian had let loose the tight embrace but still held him by his shoulders as if to assure that he really was there. "It's really me, Lill." He said hugging her lightly and brushing her hair out of her face. He bowed down and picked up her BlackBarry "I don't think you should let go of this, might be important." He said and chuckled and Lillian grinned, too. She fast regained her composure.

"I think you can go now, I don't think you'll be willing to provide my brother with answers he's currently trying to find." Mycroft said laughing.

"I'll arrange for you to be free today, Sir." Lillian said smiling at her boss and John, who smiled back at her.

"You can join us later if you like, Lill." Mycroft said with a sincere smile spread on his open face and no hint of hierarchy in his voice.

"I'll leave today to you, My." Lillian answered smiling at John. "I can punch him tomorrow." She added still smiling at John.

"Thought so." John laughed pulling her in a hug again. "Thank you for taking care of him." He said quietly.

Lillian smiled "I'll be going now." She said and went down the stairs with light steps.

"God, I'm so glad she is still with you..., taking care of you." John turned around and said with fondness in every word.

"I don't think I can handle this." Sherlock breathed out, eyes wide.

"I think he might pass out." Mycroft said concern in his voice "You know he can't handle emotion well." He added getting up and placing a hand on his brother's forehead who just stared at him.

"That would be good; at least he would sleep then." John added lightly "Don't worry, My." He said standing next to him putting his hands on Sherlock's pulls points. "He's all right, a little in shock and a little distressed and exhausted as he haven't slept in three days, nothing he can't cope with." John said brushing through Sherlock's hair "Sherry darling, you should go to bed and sleep a little." He added softly and helped Sherlock get on his feet guiding him to his bedroom with Mycroft on the other side, steadying the frail body of the Consulting Detective.

They laid him on his bed and pulled the duvet up to cover him.

"This feels familiar." Sherlock said looking up at the two figures, which were now looking down on him. John tucked the duvet around his shoulders and as he straightened Mycroft's hand glided through his hair, he closed his eyes and fell asleep


	2. What was left behind

When Sherlock woke up it was 15pm, he could tell by where the sun was, the sky and the fall of the shadows in his room, he had slept for three hours. His memories came rushing back and he leapt out of bed, running to the living room only to stop in the doorway.

Mycroft was still there sitting on the couch looking out of the window, John was propped against his shoulder his head almost on his chest and his arm was placed around Johns shoulder. He stirred a little and Mycroft made lazy circles with his thumb over his shoulder, who then nudged deeper into Mycroft's shoulder, pulling him closer with the arm draped around Mycroft's middle.

Sherlock quietly entered the room greeted with a smile form Mycroft. Sherlock wasn't used to see his brother like this, he seemed happy. He sat in his armchair and drew his knees up so he could place his chin on them.

He watched them for a few moments before he spoke "You like him and you have a past together also involving me." He said quietly, carefully looking for changes in his brother's expression, but there were none. Mycroft still smiled sincerely at him as if it was the most normal thing for him.

"No, Sherlock." He said quietly "I don't just like him, I love him." his eyes getting glassy.

"And yes, we have a past John, you, Lill and me." He added in a whisper. His expression was raw; he blinked more rapidly to suppress his tears. "John was..." he stopped and this time he couldn't stop some tears, they found their way down his cheek. "John was my anchor for 14 years, keeping me up when I couldn't do anything anymore, keeping me alive, keeping me sane...," more tears streamed down his face but he brushed them away before they could fall and laughed lightly at his own vulnerability.

"What happened?" Sherlock asked quietly his face almost buried behind his knees.

"A lot of things, Sherry, a lot of things." Mycroft exhaled. "For the last seven years...," he closed his eyes not wanting to continue but he forced himself to talk, he mused his brother had some right to know. "He was as good as dead for the last seven years, completely out of reach for me."

Sherlock's eyebrows shot up he wanted to know more details but he saw how much pain it caused his brother to talk about this so he asked instead "And why does he know me?"

Mycroft grinned at him "What do you think? You should be able to figure it out on your own." His features softened.

"Oh" Sherlock exhaled when a few pieces fell together. "You know him for 21 years, that means you were teenagers when you met, that means he saw me as a child and you said 14 years that means he has seen me..., no he didn't recognize me so he didn't see me after I was 16 and I can't remember him, so that means I deleted that memory." Sherlock frowned "Why did I do that?" he questioned himself but Mycroft answered.

"Because I asked you after he met _father_." Mycroft's expression darkened.

"I don't understand." Sherlock looked at him confused

"Sherlock what do you think what kind of relationship John and I had?" Mycroft asked with a sinister expression.

"Oh..., _oh_." Sherlock exclaimed finally understanding but then he frowned. "But father-"

Mycroft interrupted him "Father was as brilliant as he was merciless."

"Father knew what kind of relationship I had with John, he always tried to end it but there was one thing that brought it over the edge." Mycroft said as he automatically pulled John closer to him looking at his face, scanning it.

"John wasn't able to visit anymore and even after father's death there was no possibility for him to visit me...us. We saw each other few times a year. He found me after I had found you and stayed with me for a few days. That was the longest we were together in some years." A soft smile appeared on Mycroft's face. "Last time I had the chance to see him was seven years ago, broken and bloody, almost dead, to say goodbye. It's a good thing that Lill was always there."

Sherlock got the hint and his face paled.

"I think they patched him up and sent him away with no way for me to find him." Mycroft's words bleed with regret.

"But _you_ are the British Government, you have been for years, what could keep you away." Sherlock said trying to understand but failing to.

"I might be but father was more." His voice emphasised his expression, dark and regretful.

A groggy voice "My, you are more than your damn father, sorry Sherlock, was or could have ever been." John said waking up.

Mycroft smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. "But I still couldn't save you." Mycroft whispered and put his free arm on his face covering his eyes.

"Mycroft look at me." John said softly sitting up and removing his arm form his eyes. "Look at me." He demanded softy.

Finally Mycroft made eye contact, his eyes glassy and his face showed all the hurt he has been carrying around with him for years. John took Mycroft's face in his hands and brushed with his thumbs over is cheeks, drying away the tears.

"You have saved me more than once over the years, love." John said, almost whispering.

As if that was the cue word Sherlock remembered. He remembered his brother laughing and smiling and kissing someone, someone shorter than him with gold blonde hair, he had warm hands when he tucked him into his bed and read him stories and warm blue eyes when he patched up his scraped knees. He remembered Mycroft scolding him for staying out to long and he remembered the warm tea that gentle hands gave him and words with a soft voice that explained that his brother was worried about him. He remembered that his brother apologized and he remembered thanking him for caring for him and hugging him tightly and his brother's hugs when he was sad. He remembered his encouragement when he did something good. He remembered the secret he had to keep and that it made him giggly every time he saw his brothers. And he remembered his brother holding a body in his hands almost lifeless, blood streaming down his face. He remembered the ambulance and he remembered crying and he remembered his brother trying to keep it together. He remembered when they weren't allowed to visit and he remembered his brother's break down. He remembered Lill holding him when his brother lay in his bed, lifeless and pale, he remembered when Mycroft woke up and talked to him, he remembered the tears falling down Mycroft's face as he spoke asking him delete the memory of the man who he knew was like brother to him, and he remembered screaming at him until he was pulled into a tight hug and his brother asked him to think logically and said to him he doesn't want him to suffer, he remembered that Mycroft swore always to love that person with those warm hands and soft eyes looking after him, loving Mycroft, being the family he always wished for. He remembered Mycroft being a father when he needed one but his own ignoring him, he remembered warmth and happiness, he remembered _John_.

And it only took half a second for him to remember all those things and he stared at those two people who had been a family to him, who had, no still loved him unconditionally, who made his life perfect so many years ago and how they had suffered and what they had been through and that only luck had brought them together and tears started falling down his cheeks "I remember." He whispered and two pairs of warm eyes were set on him.

"I remember you, brother, you were so happy, and I remember you, John, you made him happy. And I was happy having you two around." He spoke his forehead now on his knees, tears rolling down his cheeks.

Strong steady hands gripped him and pulled him of the armchair and onto the sofa; he pressed his head against the warm body next to him and pulled the other nearer feeling the warmth of the people who he loved the most, _his family_, broken by a cruel father who even in death held it apart and only a fluke of destiny brought them back together. Brought a brother to his brother, a lover to his lover and widely scattered and broken paths together.

They fell asleep under the blanket of memories and the sound of future happiness.


	3. Epilogue

Sherlock was running around in the restaurant searching for clues to what had happened.

"Why are you here? I haven't called you, _why are you here?_" DI Lestrade stopped him with a pull on his arm when he wanted to check the dead body again.

"I was already here." Sherlock snorted at the DI.

"And why?" The DI asked already annoyed by the Consulting Detective.

Sherlock gave him the 'Are-you-really-that-stupid?' look "To eat. Food. That's what people do, I've been told." Sherlock exclaimed dramatically. John sniggered in the background.

"He was on a date here with his _partner_." Anderson threw in giggling to himself.

Sherlock looked at Anderson in disgust and walked over to John and pulled him back to the body where Lestrade, Donavan and Anderson were. He held John's left hand up and proclaimed theatrically "As you can see John is already married and not to me as you can see." He held his left hand up, John rolled his eyes.

The yarders looked astonished at the golden wedding band on John's left hand and nobody saw the tall figure stepping closer to the group and positioning himself behind John and Sherlock.

"Ah, yes. My brother is speaking the truth." The tall man said calmly with a trained fake smile slipping his hand over John's soldiers.

Lestrade stiffened when he saw the same wedding band on the left hand of the British Government.

He turned slightly to Sherlock "Are you done here, little brother?" He asked smoothly

"They won't let me examine the body again." Sherlock pouted.

"Now, now, Sherlock I think you can manage one murderer not being solved by you."

Sherlock opened his mouth but shut it again and only nodded giving Anderson an ugly glare.

"Sir, there is a car waiting, I'll bring you to another restaurant." A women explained.

"Ah, perfect." The British Government said clapping his hands together.

"Detective Inspector, I think you won't need my brother or my husband today and if you should don't try to contact them." The British Government said turning around tugging his two companions with him. The DI could hear Sherlock muttering that eating slowed down his mind and John scolding him for not eating for so long and the British Government laughing.

"Sir, what was that just now?" Donavan asked her face betraying what her even tone didn't.

"That was the British Government, Mycroft Holmes with his little brother, Sherlock Holmes and as it seems his husband, John Watson. And I wish I was kidding when I say that, I hope we never get cross with them." The DI said turning his head away from the trio and onto the dead body in front of him.

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A/N: First published on archiveofourown under the same pen name :).

Not beta read, if you find errors of any kind, please feel free to tell me :3.

So season three fucked me up, like really badly, so I'm ending stories I never finished but have now motivation to do so -escaping the new hiatus and season three.


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